


Ginger Beer

by allegoricalrose (SilentStars)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Babies, Drunk!Doctor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStars/pseuds/allegoricalrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt: Rose is ill and the Doctor tries to make her feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a fic prompt on the DoctorxRosePrompts tumblr site: original prompt at the end to avoid spoilers.

The bed was rocking when she blearily peeked open an eye and not in the fun way. No, not at all. Catching sight of the hyperactive Time Lord kneeling at her side, bouncing up and down on his hands and knees like an enthusiastic puppy, she immediately shut her eyes again and pulled the sheet over her head. 

"It's too early to be that energetic," she mumbled and covered her eyes with her arm.

"Rose…" he begged, his smile vocal, "Wake up! There's something…you…just get up and I'll tell you!"

"Ugh," she moaned, "Five more minutes…" She figured he was excited about whatever exotic location he'd navigated them to during the night but the thought of all the inevitable danger and running made her feel nauseous at the moment. Not enough sleep, obviously. 

"Rose…" he pleaded again, shifting his legs around and bunching all the covers in his efforts to get closer to her obstructed face.

"Go'way. Sleeping."

"But—"

"Go. Or stay, I don't care. But sit still, you're making me feel seasick."

"That's what I'm trying—" She cut him off with a finger across his lips, pleased with her skill at locating his mouth even from under the covers.

She heard him exhale deeply. "Fine," he huffed and wiggled down under the sheets. 

"Seriously. No moving," she murmured but reached out to wrap her arm around his waist and snuggle into his chest. He stayed blessedly still for a few minutes and she was almost asleep again when he began stroking his fingers through her hair.

"Washed my hair last night, don't get it greasy," she ordered sleepily, but planted a kiss on his bare chest. His fingers slowly drifted down her face and across her arm, his touch light enough that it gave her goosebumps.

"Shhh." She was close enough into dreamland that she didn't care her words didn't make any sense. 

Undeterred, his fingers continued on their path down her arm and across the sensitive skin of her side, strumming slowly up and down the ribs of her chest like they were guitar strings. 

"It's been five minutes, Rose," he whispered into her hair.

She didn't answer. 

"Six minutes, now. Rose, I have something to tell you, I—"

The nausea from earlier still hadn't abated and her body felt as if she could sleep for another week, so she interrupted his ebullient monologue. "I think I'm ill," she mumbled, burrowing further into his chest and slinging her leg on top of his, "no running today, just sleep."

"No running," he agreed softly, his fingers back to stroking her hair, "I promise."

He held her tightly for a spell, pressing his lips to her head. His kisses were stationary at first, but his lips soon began wandering around her skull and down her cheekbone. When he began peppering kisses along her jawline she had to stop him, a bit regretfully.

"That's nice, but I'm really not—" Midsentence, she suddenly jerked her head up, bumping the Doctor's nose in the process, and clasped her hand over her mouth. For being exhausted she certainly made good time racing to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before heaving violently into the bowl. 

The Doctor was right behind her, holding her hair back (suppose she'd have to wash it again anyway) and whispering comforting nothings into her ear as she continued to retch up what little was in her stomach. It just kept coming up, even past the point of solids; she was vomiting up only bile after a few minutes and it showed no sight of stopping. Next came the dry heaves and the Doctor had to catch her at least twice when dizziness overtook her and her legs started shaking with the effort of holding herself up. 

He left for a minute and came back with a cool wet flannel that he tenderly swept across her forehead and around her mouth, flushing the toilet and gently sitting her against the bathroom wall when it became evident that nothing else was coming up. She was still involuntarily retching and gagging every 30 seconds.

"I'm sorry," she apologised hoarsely, "I really am sick. Probably from that last planet, I knew we shouldn't have gone swimming in the rain… Maybe you shouldn't sit so close, you'll catch it from me…"

"Superior physiology, I couldn't catch anything from you if I tried," he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her arm and he drew her into his side. "But in any case, you're not contagious. Rose?"

"Mmm?" She closed her eyes and tried to inhibit the next twisting of her throat.

"I…You…Well…" he looked carefully at her, licking his lips nervously and scratching his neck. "Actually, I'll wait until this passes, okay?"

She didn't argue, little white stars impinging on her vision as she slumped against the Doctor. Her stomach continued to turn every half-minute or so like clockwork and eventually the Doctor gathered her into his arms and brought her back to bed. 

"Just sleep, I'll be here," he whispered. But she couldn't, not with her stomach trying to expel its imaginary contents. Her muscles and bones ached from their vigorous activity and she was still extremely queasy. Worst of all, though, was that she was almost delirious with exhaustion but she couldn't sleep for more than 29 seconds at a time; her mind began slipping into microsleep and fragmented half-dreams, all centered around vomiting. She had never felt more rotten in her life, even when she caught glandular fever at thirteen. 

After an indeterminable length of time, maybe seconds, maybe hours, the Doctor carefully edged himself off the bed. 

"Doctor…" she moaned.

"Shh, I know… I'm going to go find you some ginger, best thing for the stomach. By the 28th century it's the only antiemetic anyone uses. They actually genetically modified the ginger root to—"

"Doctor," she whined, "just go get some. Please," she remembered, by some miracle, to append to the end. It wasn't his fault she was sick, after all.

"Right. Ginger coming up. I'll just be two ticks. Welllll, if ticks were a metric of time…" He darted out of the room. Moments later he dashed back in, snatching a wrinkled Henley off the floor and shrugging it over his head as he ran out again. 

She heard his footsteps return once again and hover in the doorway. "I love you, Rose," he intoned with a curious degree of awe in his voice. 

"Hurpgh," she eloquently answered back, pressing her face into the pillow. Typical, of course he'd say those rare three words when she was puking her guts out. 

\---

She must have fallen asleep eventually because she startled when she heard clanging outside in the corridor and the Doctor's voice, humming a song she didn't recognise punctuated with sloppy singing every few notes. 

He burst into the room with gusto, increasing the volume of his song and waving his arms around with a flourish. The bags in his arms clanged together precariously and she thought she heard the tinkling of breaking glass.

"Hello!" the Doctor cried loudly, "I'm back! Rocky landing, sorry." He narrowed his eyes for a moment, a serious look tightening over his slackened facial features. "How are you feeling?"

Rose felt almost better enough to laugh. But not quite. At least the dry heaving had stopped. "A little better, I slept. But Doctor, are you okay?"

His face relaxed again and he dropped the bags gracelessly onto the floor. "Never better, Rose Tyler. I have never, ever, ever, been better." He smiled loopily at her and sat down heavily on the side of the bed, the force of his movement almost tumbling her onto the floor. "Sorry, sorry," he slurred, reaching his hand out to sloppily caress her face. "You're wonderful. Have I ever told you that? Just…wonderful. You make me so happy."

Her lips quirked up and she carefully sat up against the headboard. "I'll hold out on the ditto until you show the goods: did you manage to get any of the said ginger home or is it all in a puddle in your bags?"

He giggled. Giggled. "I'll show you the goods," he said in what was probably supposed to be a seductive voice but came out more dopey than sexy. He fumbled at his trouser button but she swatted his hand away. 

"Doctor, focus. Ginger. I'm dying here, please," she begged.

"I'll make you feel better," he lilted but then seemingly checked himself, "Right. Ginger beer from Nebulon XVII coming up." He giggled again. "Coming up…" he snorted as he began pawing through his numerous bags.

"Are you drunk or just horny?" she asked with a small laugh. Nope, no more laughing, she decided as he stomach began to turn over again.

"I'll have you know I am always turned on when you're around," he slurred salaciously, "and I've not touched a drop of alcohol. _Not_ that it would have any effect…"

"Superior physiology, I get it," she broke in, "but my weak human physiology is slowly decaying away while you pontificate. And you're just breaking more bottles, shoving the bags around like that."

Suddenly a maniacal grin rose on his face. "Ha-ha! Found you," he hollered and winked at the bottle in his hand, "Knew you were in there somewhere." 

"Shhh," she ordered, "no yelling. Headache." Complete sentences were now outside her grasp. 

"This will help," he whispered loudly and twisted off the lid to a bottle of ginger beer. "Here, drink it slowly though."

She cautiously eyed the bottle but took a sip. It was strong and spicy with a strong kick, and the second it hit her stomach, she felt the nausea recede a little and her headache began to fade. After the forth sip, she was able to sit up straighter in bed.

"That's amazing," she enthused.

"Yes!" he declared, punching the air clumsily, "I knew it! There were so many varieties and formulations… Tried them all, for you, my blooming Rose… had to get the right one…"

She laughed and this time it didn't hurt. Even the fatigue was beginning to dwindle away. A sly smile flitted across her face and she took another sip, "Ginger beer huh? You can metabolize alcohol instantly, vanquish outside viruses, but sweet little ginger beer takes you down?"

"Yup!" he popped, "Shh, don't tell the Daleks." He pressed his fingers to his lips and held them there long after he'd finished talking, apparently forgetting about them. "Ginger has unique properties, we used it all the time for its healing and calming properties… It has other uses too, like—"

In no mood for a lecture, she cut him off with a kiss. A kiss that didn't send waves of nausea down her core when she moved to reach him. That ginger beer was magnificent, despite her lack of interest in its medicinal properties, and the shift from pain to absence of pain was bliss.

"Does it make you hot and bothered too?" she asked sweetly, running her hand teasingly up the outside of his thigh. 

"Nope! That's all me!" He clasped his hand on top of hers and tried to shift so he could look deeply into her eyes. Instead, he fell off the bed. "I'm alright!" he quickly exclaimed and jumped back up on the bed, scooting further into the middle this time. "Maybe I had a smidgen too much…there were a lot of choices, couldn't mess it up… Rose, you make me so happy—"

"Right back at ya. But you already said that, crazy Time Lord…"

"Did I? Well, it continues to be true." He cupped her cheek. "I know it hasn’t been a smooth path to where we are now. Bumpy and with a lot of potholes. Twisty. Um, turny."

"Long," she added with a smile.

"Too long," he agreed. "But now…you're everything: you're the stars and moons and galaxies and the asteroids and the, er, universes, and, um, planets… Supernovas! Did I mention supernovas? And the other stars…" He clearly lost his train of thought and she planted a quick smack on his cheek. Loving this inebriated Time Lord, she thought with a grin.

"Thanks. It was worth it, huh?"

"Oh, yes. And still—still—despite your magnitude to me, there will…or, I hope at least, obviously it's your decision, there will still be more, even more love, even if I can't even imagine yet the depth of that…It could be a new start, but—"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Doctor, are you…are you trying to propose or something?"

"No!" he blurted out. His eyes widened. "Unless you want me to? Because I'll do anything that would make you happy. Anything. It would be my pleasure…" His expression became distracted and dreamy, "Oh, the honeymoon would be brilliant though…and maybe a cake with edible ball bearings…"

"Doctor?"

"Mmm?" he hummed, burying his nose into her hair.

"No more talking." She grabbed him by the collar and dragged his lips up to meet hers. He responded fervently for a minute but then tried to pull back.

"But I have more to say, I need to tell you why the ginger beer had to be just right—"

"Later," she mumbled into his mouth, stroking the top of his mouth with her tongue.

"But Rose, there's a reason...mmm…you…I…mmrph" His attempts to continue talking through their snog were noble but speech failed him when she bit down firmly on his lower lip.

"Rose…" he whined when she finally let go, "please…"

Sighing, she let him go and sat back on the headboard. "Fine, what?" she grumbled.

For all his insistence on telling her whatever it was, he was hesitant, even nervous now, biting his slightly swollen lip and drumming his fingers on the edge of the bed.

Softening, she reached out for his fidgeting hand. "What is it?" she asked gently, rubbing her thumb along his.

"I…" He trailed off and looked down at their intertwined hands, a blush rising on his cheeks.

"You said it was important you found the right ginger beer?" she prompted.

"Yes. The right ginger beer. See, Rose, Time Lords are sensitive to gingerol, an oil found in ginger root. It exerts mild inhibitory properties on the nervous system as well as the gastroenterological system; basically it's a non-toxic relaxant. Completely harmless, even to…" He swallowed. "But when ginger root is cooked, the gingerol forms shogaol—" He paused his esoteric babble to snicker at his words, "Shogaol, sounds like shag…" 

"Doctor," Rose warned.

"Right. Shogaol. That's the one to avoid, it's more neurotoxic; not lethal, but has more unpleasant effects, much more like you being plastered on tequila that one night." She ducked her head in playful shame and he drew circles on her palm with his long middle finger. "That was a brilliant night. If it makes you feel any better though, Shakespeare stowed aboard the TARDIS after buying me some ginger beer with cooked ginger once… Knocked me right out."

"What, really?" she asked in delighted disbelief, hugging his arm and drawing him closer.

"Really. Oh, you would have liked that body…I was blond and sporty."

"Sporty?" she asked in even greater disbelief, snickering.

"Welll, cricket."

"Sounds more like it. The hair sounds nice though," she baited, sticking her tongue out between her teeth.

" _Anyway,_ " he pressed on, but not before a pout passed over his features, "ginger beer labels don't exactly state whether the root has been processed or used raw, so I had to taste-test them all, find one without shogoaol for you. Of course, I may have also tested within the raw ginger root range too, had to get the most delicious brand. For you, that is."

She looked at him, confused. "Why would they sell it if it's unsafe? I've had ginger beer before…"

"It's only deleterious to Time Lords, maybe a couple other species… Not to humans," he clarified, and watched her expectantly. 

"Why did you bother, then?" She pointed to herself, "Human, remember?"

He nodded slowly and a goofy grin slid up his face. "I wasn't worried about you."

"Huh? Who then?" She felt like she was missing something, like he had just given her the punch line without the joke. His eyes were intent, focused for the first time since he'd gotten back, and they were directed on her. 

Slowly, he let his eyes wander down to her midline and back up again. "You're not ill, Rose."

It felt like her chest exploded and she could see the white lights from the blast stream through her eyes. Her breath hitched for a second and then accelerated in sync with her heart.

"You mean…"

"You're pregnant! We're pregnant, that is. No, not we, really… Although on Galgus the humans there evolved so the male would carry the offspring. Aaanyway I sensed it this morning, once neurulation starts I can feel…" He halted at her silence, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, unless this isn't happy news to you, in which case, um, it's still early…" He swallowed hard and looked down, biting his lip. 

Slowly, she brought their still entwined hands over to rest on her lower abdomen, feeling the still taught skin under the hem of her vest top with awe. "I'm pregnant," she breathed and he whipped his head up to meet her eyes with such raw and vulnerable hope in his eyes that she felt tears welling up. "Of course I'm happy," she whispered in a choked voice, "I didn't think…I had no idea we even could. I mean, it's a surprise and I feel a little dazed and I don't know what I'm trying to say, even… I didn't know you even wanted…and, um…" 

He was still gazing wordlessly up at her but there were tears in his own eyes now and he knelt over her to press his lips to her stomach, forging a trail of kisses across her entire abdomen. "There's really a baby in there? We're having a baby? Your baby, inside me?" she asked shakily, bursting into sobs halfway through her words, "Because—"

This time it was the Doctor who cut _her_ off as he moved up her body, hovering above her with his weight on his elbows, and covered her trembling lips with his. "No more talking," he whispered into her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the prompt; thanks so much, it was a lot of fun working off the idea! 
> 
> Prompt (on http://doctorxroseprompts.tumblr.com/): _Rose is pregnant with the Doctor of course it superior- Superior Morning sickness, tiredness, and crankiness. She just too sick or tired to even have sex. Desperate to make his Rose feel better, he takes her to an intergalactic Mother care store and ends on getting drunk from Ginger Beer isle while sampling which one would be best for Rose. Anyway Rose gets Ginger Beer that helps her feel better and perks of a horny drunk Timelord._


End file.
